Disclaimer: Paramount rules. I’m just playing with their dolls.

WARNING: THIS STORY IS NOT TOLD IN CHRONOLOGICAL ORDER! PAY ATTENTION TO THE CHAPTER DATES/LOCATIONS!

Note: This is not my usual Janeway/Chakotay story. In this universe, Our Favorite Couple is a little more confused and much more human than they appeared in the Delta Quadrant. Maybe it’s something in the water. LOL

Undeniable

By Mizvoy

Chapter 8

September 15, 2379 (one year and four months after Voyager’s return)

Mark Hopkins Intergalactic Hotel Suite 818 2000 hours

Suite 818 looked as if it were unoccupied. It had been taken late that afternoon by a tall, dark civilian who had registered as “Oscar Paris” and had paid in cash, asking not to be disturbed for any reason during the next two days. Nothing in the suite had been touched. He had brought no luggage with him, only a small bag slung over his shoulder. Expensive wines and cheeses sat unnoticed in the chiller. The spread on the king- sized bed was smooth and unwrinkled. The towels in the bathroom were perfectly arranged. The silence was complete.

Motionless In front of the huge plate glass windows, the man sat cross-legged staring into the sky. He had been there for hours, sitting unmoving as the sun shone brilliantly in a blue sky dotted with fluffy white clouds. The sun was setting now, a beautiful orange and gold display, but he was so deep in his thoughts that he was unconscious of its beauty.

The man, Chakotay, had not expected Kathryn to come. She had said she wouldn’t the last time they’d talked about it, that cold, rainy morning in Monterey, and he had seen her speak from a starship three days earlier in a newsvid interview regarding the upheaval with their traditional enemy, the Romulans. She was an admiral now, burdened with decisions that affected hundreds and thousands, even millions, of people. The strain had to be incredible. She didn’t have control of her time. With all the problems with Romulus, he imagined that she wasn’t even on earth.

He’d been shocked by her appearance. Always thin, Kathryn had been emaciated, yet her face had seemed puffy, her eyes smudged with dark rings. Her hair had been pulled back severely, arranged without adornment in a bun at her neck. She looked like she might have been sick, and he could tell that she hadn’t been eating properly or sleeping well in quite some time. Her image had haunted him ever since.

He’d been so surprised at her condition that he hadn’t comprehended her words until he reran the interview for a second time. She was being asked about the rumors that the entire Romulan senate had been assassinated, that a Reman renegade had taken over the government, but he could tell that Kathryn was deliberately trying to inject calm into the public’s reaction. She’d admitted that, if true, the situation was volatile and dangerous, but she didn’t think war was a definitely possibility. At least that’s what she said.

Then he’d noticed the stylus in her hands. It was a simple matter to have the computer focus in on and enhance the image until he could confirm what she was holding, what she was fiddling with nervously as she spoke, and when he’d seen it, he’d nearly cried out in surprise.

It was the stylus he’d made her on New Earth. On one of his explorations around the cliffs near their shelter, he’d found a narrow column of dense black quartz that gleamed with red and gold veins of fire when held in the sunlight. For days, he’d carefully worked with the stone, inserting into its tip the delicate computer chip that would activate the more intricate PADDs, yet careful to maintain its natural beauty in the remainder of the shaft.

It had been perfectly smooth, small, heavy, and breathtakingly beautiful. Kathryn had been entranced by it and had carried it with her constantly until the day Tuvok and Voyager had “rescued” them. Once they were back on Voyager, however, he hadn’t seen it again. He’d considered asking her about it, but he didn’t want to know if she’d lost it or simply tossed it into a drawer. Besides, she received dozens of beautiful, expensive gifts from the governmental leaders of alien planets, some of which were briefly displayed in her ready room, but most of which went into cargo bay one and were now on exhibit at some Starfleet museum, carefully labeled and catalogued. Why would she care about a handmade piece of stone when she had so many other beautiful objects to admire?

But in the interview, she was toying with it while she spoke. Did she have it with her because it reminded her of him? Did she intend for him to see her with it in her hand? Was it a message, a signal to let him know that she still thought of him, still cared forhim? He was overcome with gratitude and grief. He was grateful for her use of his gift, grief- stricken by her absence from his life.

He’d stumbled from his study and collapsed on his bed, feeling lost and unsure of what he should do next, finally closing his eyes for some much needed sleep. Seven had stopped by his apartment on her way home from work and had awakened him, alarmed by his being in bed so early in the evening.

“What’s wrong?” she’d asked, gently brushing her hand along his cheek. “Are you sick? Has something happened?”

“No,” he’d said quickly, his voice choking with guilt as he sat up on the bed, “nothing’s wrong, nothing whatsoever. It’s just . . . I’m just trying to sort out my life, that’s all. I’ve had trouble sleeping the last week or so. I need to decide what my direction should be, where I should go from here now that the book’s done.”

“Do we need to talk about it?”

“I think we do.”

They walked into the living room where she sat down on the sofa to listen, her blue eyes serious. “You’re not satisfied with our relationship.”

He realized that she hadn’t asked a question, but simply made a statement. He sat down next to her and took her hand, grateful for her tendency to speak her mind. “No, I’m not. Are you?”

“Since our return to the Alpha Quadrant, I’ve had the opportunity to observe many more couples than were present on Voyager. While we seem compatible enough and get along well, a connection quite apparent between other couples seems to be missing with us.”

He marveled at her sensitivity, appreciating how much of her humanity she had reclaimed. “Do you think so?”

“Yes. I spoke of this with my counselor recently. I hope you don’t mind.”

“Not at all. That’s what counselors are for.” In spite of himself, he began to panic. Where was she heading with this? What was going to happen with his life? Change, he reminded himself, is always frightening, yet often liberating when it is based on an acknowledgment of the truth. “What did your counselor say?”

“She said that not all relationships are destined to be permanent. She thinks that perhaps we became involved on Voyager for reasons that no longer exist.”

“Reasons that no longer exist?”

She pulled her hand back from him. “I needed someone I trusted to help me continue to explore my humanity. You were the perfect person for that, and I’m grateful for your patience and your kindness.”

He smiled at her, genuinely touched. “Thanks, Seven. I appreciate hearing that.”

“However, the nature of that exploration has changed. I now understand the physical dynamics of human emotions.”

He blinked in surprise. “You mean sex.”

“Yes. I’m afraid I was very confused by the whole issue of sex, and our time together has allowed me to understand it better. I just hope that you don’t think that I used you for simple pleasure.”

“Believe me, I don’t feel that way at all.” He sat back and tried not to laugh. How many times had he confused love and sex and paid for the confusion the hard way? Seska was perhaps the most glaring example. “Most human relationships exist because people need something each other. In fact, I’ve probably used you as much as you have me.”

“Truly?” Her naiveté touched him. He could tell she was relieved to know that he wasn’t hurt by anything she’d said so far.

“I needed someone to take care of, something to fill my life besides my own obsessions.” A vision of Kathryn sitting to his right in her command seat flitted through his mind. “I was beginning to wallow in self- pity, I’m afraid. You were a wonderful diversion.”

“But something is missing for you, as well?”

“Yes, I think so.”

“What is missing, Chakotay?” He stared at her in surprise, reminding himself of her inexperience and innocence. He was her first real experiment with love and with sex, so, of course, she would be bewildered by the confusing signals from her heart and her head. She continued, “We’re good friends. We seldom disagree or argue. We’re comfortable together. We’re frequently intimate.” She paused, waiting for him to reply. “There is more than this to a relationship?”

“Yes, Seven, there’s more.” He stood up and walked to the window, trying to think of a way to explain to her what it was she was beginning to perceive. “Although we’re close, we’ve remained individuals, and we’ve kept our lives separate.”

“But this is the nature of human existence, isn’t it? To remain separate.”

He turned to her and sighed. “Yes, in some ways. We’ll never share the complete intimacy that you experienced in the collective. But close, lasting relationships involve the blending of the two individual’s lives and spirits. I’ve heard people say that when they look into their beloved’s eyes, they perceive their own selves looking back at them.”

“That would be physically impossible.”

He laughed. Her tendency to take things literally never ceased to amuse him. “What I mean is that the two separate individuals come to see the other as an extension of themselves. The emotional and spiritual boundaries between them begin to disappear as their relationship deepens.”

“I have not seen myself when I’ve looked into your eyes,” she admitted.

“I know. It hasn’t happened for me, either.”

“Have we failed to take some action to make this blending occur?”

“There’s no trick to it, Seven. Either it happens or it doesn’t.”

She seemed confused. “Perhaps, then, we should reconsider the exclusivity of our relationship and seek a partner with which this ‘blending of individuals’ can occur.”

His dimples appeared as he tried to repress his grin at her choice of words. “We don’t have to hurry into anything, Seven. What we have is nice. Many people would settle for our relationship without question.” As he spoke, he realized the truth of his words. He would have settled for what he and Seven had if he were still on Voyager. It would have been enough there, with his daily, intimate interaction with Kathryn and the constant demands of the ship and crew filling his time and attention.

“Are you willing to settle for what we have, Chakotay?”

He looked away, remembering a stormy night in Monterey, recalling blue eyes that revealed a spirit that seemed an extension of his own. “I honestly don’t know.”

She stepped up to him and slid her arm around his waist. “I don’t know, either, Chakotay. I was hoping for an intimacy with you like that I experienced with Axum during my time in Unimatrix Zero. Physically, we have achieved it. But, as I’ve said, something is missing.”

He turned to her and kissed her on the cheek, nuzzling into her ear. “You’re leaving tomorrow for the conference on Alpha Century. Go, have a good time, and don’t worry about this. We’ll use the time apart to think things through. Whatever we decide, we’ll decide together. And we’ll always be friends.”

She’d nodded, trusting him implicitly, never suspecting that guilt that was twisting his heart. Had his two spontaneous nights with Kathryn in some way doomed his connection to Seven? She sighed and said, “Are you still interested in a goodbye meal at Huzzah’s?”

He smiled. “Absolutely. Give me some time to clean up, and we’ll go have a nice dinner.”

The meal had gone well, and Seven had left without any further discussion of their future. But, he hadn’t eaten since that night. He’d fasted and meditated over his dilemma, with no intention of coming to San Francisco, no plan to waste his time and money on a lonely exile that would only serve to remind him of a lost romance. But then he’d called the Mark Hopkins and learned that the suite was available for the weekend. Seven was gone for another week. He had no obligations keeping him busy. At last he realized that he couldn’t resist the impulse to go, and so, here he sat, alone in the silent room.

He recognized this as another important crisis in his life, a moment when a decision would influence everything that happed afterward. It was another of several turning points that had been unexpected and unavoidable and life altering. One had occurred when he’d rejected his father’s traditions and left Dorvan V for Starfleet Academy without so much as a backward glance. Another happened when he’d turned his back on his chosen career and gone to the Maquis to avenge the people he’d left behind.

He’d felt as if his life had been neatly divided in two separate parts, his family and his career, and that there was no way to rectify the conflict between them, no way to blend them into harmony. And so he had raged against his fate. He had joined the Maquis to court death, expecting it, looking forward to it, until the Caretaker had intervened.

The only place he’d felt whole and at peace was on Voyager where his life and career had been perfectly intertwined. With Kathryn’s blessing and open encouragement, he’d been able to pursue his family’s beliefs as he served as her first officer. He’d been able to channel his anger toward a positive, constructive goal. He’d found acceptance and respect and forgiveness. He’d pledged his loyalty and devotion to her, and she’d accepted from him as much as she could allow herself to take and remain his superior officer.

And that, they had both thought, would be enough. It had been enough for seven years.

He sighed, frustrated by his failure to meditate over the last few days. His medicine bundle lay on the carpet before him untouched. Chanting quietly, he opened it, touching each artifact as he found it, arranging them on the opened pelt: a raven’s wing from the devastation on Dorvan V, a rock from a creek north of San Francisco, a fragment of the same black quartz from New Earth that he’d used for Kathryn’s stylus, and an akoonah, the device that facilitated the vision itself.

He closed his eyes, centering himself. Three days with just water. Nearly six hours in perfect stillness, absolute silence. He began his chant, closing his eyes and fingering the precious items before he placed his hand on the akoonah. He found himself on a rocky hillside dotted with melting drifts of snow that sparkled like stars in the weak sunlight. Above him, watching him with hooded golden eyes, stood a magnificent silver wolf. He nearly cried out with relief to be successful at last.

“Why have you come, Chakotay?”

“I need your advice. I need another perspective on my life.”

She regarded him with barely disguised contempt and then turned, looking back at him. “Are you ready to hear it? You must see and accept the truth before you can begin to change.”

She headed toward a small ridge while Chakotay struggled over the slippery shale to keep up with her. She didn’t slow her pace, didn’t look back for him as he hurried awkwardly over the treacherous terrain. Finally, when he fell with a loud groan and hundreds of small stones skittered down the side of the hill, she returned to him, pausing to lick a bleeding scrape on his hand.

“What are we doing in this God-forsaken place?” he demanded, rubbing his aching shoulder.

“You do not like location you have chosen?”

“I didn’t choose this!” he snapped, twisting to the side and gingerly probing his bruised back. “You brought me here.”

“I came to you where you were, Chakotay.” She never responded in anger, a fact that sometimes exasperated him. “Perhaps you can explain why?”

He stretched out on the jagged rocks and icy pockets of snow to look up into the thickening clouds that raced overhead, a sure sign of snow. If ever there was a location to reflect the condition of his life, this was it. Cold, barren, remote, hopeless. He rolled over onto his stomach and pushed himself to his feet, cradling his elbow in his arm. “Will you slow down, at least, before I fall and break an arm?”

She resumed her previous course at a much more manageable speed. “It isn’t much farther anyway,” she assured him.

They paused at a precipice that looked nearly straight down into a lush valley dotted with farms with ripening crops and herds of animals in the fields. The scene was warm and inviting and made him more conscious of the cold that surrounded him at this high altitude. He crouched down, wrapping his arms around his knees in an attempt to conserve his body heat. “How do I get there from here?”

“Good question.” She sat down on her haunches beside him, letting the wind ruffle her thick fur. “You could jump.”

“I’d like to be alive on arrival,” he joked, stroking his hand over her shining coat. “Have I ever seen this valley before?”

“The valley is not a place, Chakotay.” She turned walking slowly back up the incline. “It will be safer if we reach the top of this ridge. You will see more.”

He followed her, resorting to all fours when the rocks slid beneath him. “Isn’t there a path we can follow?”

She turned to him, her eyes bright. “Isn’t the path what you seek?”

He crouched on the rocks, looking up at her in confusion. “The path?”

She reached the top of the incline and, sitting on her haunches, waited for him to join her. “A path. A direction. A purpose. A reason to continue.”

He ducked his head and crawled to her position, sitting down beside her and putting his arm around her neck. “I have a reason to continue.”

“Look around, Chakotay. Do you see a path? Companionship is always good, but it is not enough when you are lost.”

Companionship? He looked around, trying to understand her meaning. The slope was rocky and bare, the lush farmland blocked from view. The surrounding hills were icy and dotted with low scrubby trees, and behind them, rising steadily into the horizon, ridge after ridge of barren peaks rose into the sky, topped with snow. The weak sun barely warmed him in the thin, frigid air. “No one can live here.”

“No. If that is what you desire, then this is not a place to settle.” The wolf stood, shaking off the cold. “You are a navigator, a pilot by profession. When you’ve gone off course, what do you do?”

“Retrace your steps to find the wrong turn. Or look at the charts and find the quickest way back to a familiar point of reference.”

“A point of reference?”

“Something that helps you determine your location and reset your course. When the ship’s at stake, what else can you do? Find a familiar landmark, swallow your pride, and admit you were wrong.” He turned around. Behind him, the hills were lower. He could see in the far distance the lush green blur of farmland on the horizon. In many ways the trip back down the slope would be more treacherous and less adventurous than to continue, but the green valley called to him. Perhaps it was time to settle down. “You start over if you have to.”

He opened his eyes to see the city lights of San Francisco stretching away from him like a blanket of stars, white hot stars burning in the cold of space. He was freezing as he carefully folded his medicine bundle, his hands trembling, his teeth chattering as he pulled the edges of the wool rug around his shoulders.

Where was she, he wondered. Was she here in San Francisco, working at Starfleet Headquarters? Was she in orbit of earth, waiting to take action to protect the Federation from Romulan treachery? Was she on a starship hundreds of light years away? Wherever she was, whatever she was doing, he knew instinctively that Kathryn was the point of reference he needed, that she was the key to his future.

He looked around at the suite where their long dormant love affair had exploded into existence. He should never have left her, never have let her withdraw from him as she had. He could still remember the unshed tears in Kathryn’s eyes the previous year as he’d walked out the door to meet Seven. He’d had the same feeling of desolation as he’d strode across the golf course in Monterey, the anguish in her voice as she’d said goodbye still fresh in his memory.

Start over? He fought despair as he closed his eyes and focused on his quiet place, his center. The choice wasn’t his alone. Kathryn seemed unwilling to consider a permanent relationship with him for a number of reasons, including his connection to Seven of Nine. They would both have to want to be together if this was going to work. He just had to have faith. If Kathryn was truly meant to be in his life, then nothing would keep them apart.

He had to believe that if he were to hold onto his sanity.

To be continued . . .